


How to Save a Life

by whatido



Series: Silent Spacemonkey [4]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Episode Fixit: s05e21 Meridian, Gen, I'm Sorry, Jack being Jack, Post Episode: s05e21 Meridian, Yeah it's a songfic, mute character, songfic sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatido/pseuds/whatido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Daniel's not-death, Jack wonders if he could have prevented it or at least repaired their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> In posting this, I hope to guilt myself into writing the rest of it very soon. When finished, it should have at least one or two more chapters.

Jack is in the mall looking for a present for Cassie’s birthday when he hears it. This is actually one of the reasons he avoids the mall: the tinny variations on a four-chord theme. After everything he has experienced, from Black Ops to the joy of his life with Charlie and Sara to the gut-wrenching pain of its end, he simply cannot bring himself to care about the romantic lives of whichever singers are currently en vogue. It’s nothing personal, Jack simply prefers music that has a lot of feeling in it. He has become quite adept at tuning out most of the noise in the mall and his brain doesn’t register the first verse of the song. Then the chorus hits him and he has to sit down for a moment.

            “I would have stayed up with you all night had I known how to save a life.”

Daniel has only been gone for a few weeks (two weeks, five days, eight hours, and thirty-six minutes) but Jack has had plenty of time to think about how very screwed up their relationship has become. Had. Has. They always argue (had always argued)—how could they not when they disagreed about everything from politics to pizza toppings—but lately their arguments had taken a turn for the toxic. And this thing with Carter had not helped matters.

Somehow, between having inappropriate feelings for his very attractive and very young 2IC, wrangling with his peace-loving archaeologist over every single decision, and withstanding pressure from people in very high places about the lack of “recovered” alien weaponry, Jack had lost sight of what made his team special. The magic that protected and bound them together wore off at some point and Jack had the very uncomfortable feeling that it was his fault. He suspected that Carter did too, based on the way she kept looking at him as though he had killed her puppy.

He supposed he had, in a way. Carter and Daniel had always had a strange, almost psychic connection. The moniker of “Science Twins” had fit them to a ‘T,’ or at least it had until they had all agreed to drop it after that one mission to P5X-839. And the less said about _that_ mission, the better.

Boy, Jack wishes he had sat Daniel down for a talk (or a sign?), as the song seemed to suggest. He had noticed that Daniel was working more and speaking up less, but Jack did not think anything was really wrong until the thing with that damned robot. Jack was shocked to see Daniel’s eyes fill with tears as he sat over Reese’s… Reese. As a rule, Daniel didn’t cry. The only time Jack had ever seen him cry was after he returned home from delivering Sha’re’s baby. And he had been very, very drunk (four beers and two shots). Well, he had also cried during withdrawal from sarcophagus addiction, but he was completely out of it then, too.

Jack wasn’t even aware of the extent of Daniel’s misery until after he was gone. His apartment smelled stale and musty and only the coffee maker appeared to have been used recently. The worst part though, was the piano. There was a fine layer of dust on the cover and when Jack lifted it and experimentally pressed a key, it twanged, out of tune. Daniel had once said that playing grounded him, kept him sane. How long had Daniel been depressed? How had Jack not noticed? Had anyone noticed?

Jack wonders what would have happened if he and Daniel had had that talk. Would he still be alive? In the non-glowy sense of the word? He figures that if multiple deaths, sarcophagus addiction, and a trip to the loony bin had not knocked that pesky self-sacrificing streak out of Daniel, a heart-to-heart wasn’t going to do the trick. But maybe if Jack had sucked it up and at least attempted to repair their relationship he could have given Daniel a proper good-bye instead of the bumbling mess that came out of his mouth at Daniel's bedside. He couldn’t even remember what he said now; he could only remember how awful Daniel had looked, covered in gauze and bleeding through the bandages in some places.

Dammit to hell. He should have cleared the air with Daniel, told him how much he cared even when he was a giant pain in the ass, should have told Carter that nothing was going to happen with “them” a long time ago. But that was Jack’s problem. It was so much easier to avoid difficult conversations, letting wounds fester, than it was to clear the air. When would he learn that this only led to loss?

Abruptly, Jack realizes he has been walking blindly through the mall and completely missed all the stores where he could buy something for Cassie. And that song had ended, probably a while ago. He makes a quick decision and retraces his steps to the music and video store, where he buys the first three seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and a poster with some of the characters on it for Cassie. He also purchases a CD containing the song that was just playing. He has never understood how people name bands. What the hell kind of name is The Fray? What’s next, The Rip? The Tear? Unraveling? Although that was more of a song name. Jack can just hear it now: “Unraveling” by The Sweater. Daniel would… Daniel would nothing because he is incorporeal and in a galaxy far, far away, never to return, for all Jack knows.


	2. Step One

Jack O’Neill, Air Force Colonel, multi-medal recipient, blah, blah, and phooey, was in his office, pacing. This was unusual for him. He was a fidgeter, not a pacer. Pacist? Pacer. This was bad. Not the pacing, that wasn’t bad. Strange, yes, but somehow comforting. Walk, walk, walk, turn. Walk, walk, walk, turn. Repetitive. Mindless. And there was no way he was mentioning that in front of Daniel, who already thought he was brainless, heartless, and gutless. And therein lay the badness.

For the past year or so, Jack had had the feeling that something was wrong between Daniel and himself. Sure, they had always argued, but these days it seemed like they were at each others' throats at the drop of a hat. Sometimes literally. Daniel did love that boonie and it had the habit of flying off his head at inopportune moments, which irritated Jack to no end.

Daniel’s reaction to their difficulties was to stop speaking up—figuratively. He had withdrawn, was less likely to give his opinion on anything and everything. It took Jack a while to notice that the guy who didn’t talk had stopped speaking up, but once he noticed he couldn’t forget it. A quiet Daniel was spooky.

And then, to see him in tears over that robot was a real wake-up call. Had Daniel really been this miserable without Jack noticing? For how long? Had anyone else noticed? And most importantly, how could Jack fix this?

How do you repair a relationship based on too many jibes and too few shows of affection? Jack realized with a jolt that it had been at least a few months since the last team night and he no longer kept track of how often Daniel left the mountain. Which meant that Daniel had been almost certainly sleeping (or not) in his office far too often. So it really wasn’t all that surprising that Daniel wasn’t quite the pain in the ass that Jack had come to know and… Yeah. Love.

Double crap.

_This is all my fault_ , thought Jack. No doubt Daniel was well on his way to blaming himself for everything that had ever happened. But what, if anything, could Jack do to convince him otherwise? He doubted Daniel would be willing to listen to him after their altercation in the ‘gate room, not that Daniel had ever really listened to him in the first place. From the very beginning, Daniel was constantly wandering off and making decisions without consulting Jack. It never seemed to occur to him that Jack knew a little something about tricky operations, including liaising with local populations.

But damn, as much as Jack wanted to repair his relationship with Daniel and the bond that made SG-1 special, he really did not want to have this conversation. When he thought about sitting Daniel down to talk about feelings and all that mushy crap he got this squirmy feeling in his gut that made him want to go for a run or hit a heavy bag. What if he talked to Daniel and the younger man decided he wasn’t worth the effort and left SG-1? The feeling grew much worse at that thought and Jack felt a bit nauseated. He could not imagine SG-1 without Daniel. Carter and Teal’c would rightly blame Jack and the only thing that scared him more than an angry Jaffa master was a pissed-off astrophysicist. Even if he didn’t want to be with her (and that was another conversation he was putting off), he still cared for her more than he should and would go to the ends of the Earth—or the galaxy—to avoid hurting her. But if he didn’t talk to Daniel…

In a fraction of a second, his decision was made. Jack had to act fast before whatever was broken between him and Daniel caused irreparable damage.

Jack grabbed his overshirt from where he had tossed it on his desk and took off toward Daniel’s office, his long legs making the journey short. He stopped in Daniel’s doorway and the sole occupant looked up at him, eyes still burning with anger and, beneath that, the dull something else Jack had first noticed the night after Sha’re died.

“We need to talk.”

\------------------------------------------

Daniel went with Jack with no argument, which by itself normally would have been an indication that something was very wrong. Daniel seemed to consider it his sworn duty to argue any decision made by someone with a military rank. Jack just hoped his acquiescence meant that Daniel, too, knew they needed to repair their relationship and was willing to talk it out.

Yeah. Fat chance.

More likely, Daniel was waiting for a chance to really rip into Jack. Jack bet his friend was eager to tell him exactly how badly he’d screwed the pooch and why the military mindset was all that was wrong with the world.

When they arrived at Jack’s house, pizza in hand, Daniel walked around the living room and looked at the various pictures and medals much in the way he had the first time he visited. His posture conveyed discomfort and it was this more than anything else that forced Jack to realize how long it had been since Daniel last visited his home. Once, these nights had been routine, Jack and Daniel enjoying each other’s company over pizza and a game or movie. But as their friendship grew strained, the frequency of these nights decreased until they had stopped a few months before.

Jack put the pizza on the counter and called to Daniel, “Hey, you want a beer?” He was surprised when Daniel came into the kitchen to look into the fridge. Usually he would throw a soft ball—one for yes, two for no—that Jack kept in the living room just for this purpose. He may be an archaeologist with only a rudimentary understanding of when to duck, but from the beginning of their friendship Daniel had always managed to hit Jack precisely in the head with any given projectile.

After rooting around in the fridge for a minute, Daniel emerged with a bottle of iced tea. They each took a piece of pizza and sat down in the living room. For a moment the atmosphere was familiar and comfortable. Then Jack remembered his purpose in bringing Daniel home and the awkwardness returned. Daniel refused to meet his friend’s eyes; Jack had no idea how to start this conversation.

This feeling persisted through dinner. Jack tried to start conversations about hockey, Carter, and SG-9’s diplomatic mission to the planet that measured status by hairstyles, but Daniel only responded with a shrug each time. Throughout it all he stared resolutely at his pizza, the opposite wall, anything but Jack.

When they finally finished (Daniel appeared to be trying to draw out the eating process as long as possible, taking small bites and chewing slowly), Jack sat back and started, “So.”

Not much of a start, there.

Daniel waited for him to go on, then finally looked at Jack and waved his hand in a way that interpreted as, “So,” with an added flick of irritation. It was the conversation after their argument on the planet of the Plant People all over again.

Jack scrubbed his face with his hands and burst out, “Dammit, Daniel, I can’t do this again! We need to really talk for once in our lives- you know what I mean, don’t give me that look. We need to fix this.”

Daniel abruptly stood up and started walking around the room, arms wrapped around himself in a self-hug. There was something frantic about his movements, like he wanted to escape but had no idea where the exits were.

Jack’s irritation suddenly surfaced. “For cryin’ out loud, Daniel, sit down! It’s just a talk. We are grown men and fully capable of working out whatever problems are between us.”

Daniel suddenly deflated, as though he was a marionette whose strings had been cut. He sat back down on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before he sat back and smiled politely at Jack.

/What’s on your mind?/ he signed.

Jack couldn’t believe it. Daniel was giving him the ‘politician’ treatment. Not cool. Jack took a minute to look at Daniel, _really_ look. The younger man appeared exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and tension in his face. His smile was brittle and he was twisting his hands, which were folded in his lap.

It was a warm late spring evening in Colorado Springs. Out the front window Jack could see a group of kids playing tag across the street. A woman came out of the house and three of the children went inside, waving and calling to the others, who walked down the street, presumably to their own dinners. Jack stared out the window until he figured that Daniel’s casual façade would have fallen away. The streetlights had come on.

Jack glanced at Daniel, who maintained his pose although he now seemed more troubled. That was better. He would have to do this carefully and keep a tight rein on the anger that was so close to the surface these days. Jack also wanted to avoid triggering any old arguments. He had to go somewhere new or they would never get anything done.

“Why did you join the Stargate Program?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you value precision in thought and deed, you may have noted that I squidged the timing a bit for the song to coincide with post-Meridian and (possibly) for Jack to have the ability to buy Buffy DVDs. Not sure when those came out.


End file.
